Prisoners of Hope
by mashsm1013
Summary: The Reaping, my final Reaping, would be my undoing - Gale. When Gale and Katniss are reaped together for the 74th Hunger Games, the dam holding back their inhibitions crumbles under the pressure of getting one of them home alive. Can they challenge the rules of the Capital and win? Rated M for mild language, mild sexual situations (no smut), and adult themes.
1. Ch 1

**Rating Notes – This story is conservatively rated M because I am an old fuddy-duddy that doesn't think children should read about sex and violence. But it really is tame comparatively speaking and any other author might have chosen T. Read at your own risk.**

**I am marking this as complete because it does come to a satisfying conclusion of sorts with Chapter 6. However, I do have more story in my head, so I reserve the right to come back and write more later. Enjoy!**

**As always, I don't own anything related to The Hunger Games. Just borrowing for a bit.**

The Reaping, my final Reaping, would be my undoing. I didn't know it yet, as I stood stoically amidst the boys my age and pretended not to care about the inevitable death of two District 12 children. I always seemed to forget as the year went by that I was still a child. This event was a great reminder. I was the main provider for a family of five, hunting illegally so we didn't starve, but still only a teenager, technically a child.

I'm sure it wasn't this way hundreds of years ago. I wouldn't know for sure. They don't teach that kind of history at school. But surely, before the disasters and the war, teenagers were allowed to be children. Somewhere, there had to be a place where the biggest concerns were who is dating who and how am I going to pass math this semester. I suppose there was such a place in my day, too, but it wasn't District 12. It was the Capital.

As if on cue, our Capital representative, Effie Trinket, walked up to the microphone as quick as her ridiculous attire would allow. "Happy Hunger Games!" she trilled. The way she stuck out like a sore thumb in her bubble gum pink and glitter amidst the backdrop of hunched and dust covered miners would have been comical if this were funny. There was nothing to laugh at now though. Effie was about to pull out the names of one boy and one girl, tributes, who would fight to the death for the entertainment of the people, well...the Capital people. For the tributes, they simply fought for survival, to be the one left standing, a lone Victor among twenty-four young citizens of Panem.

I put on a believable mask of indifference about the whole thing for the sake of my family and friends. Its dangerous to succumb to the hopelessness of our situation. Better to be nonchalant about death than to feel its unbearable repercussions every day. If we did that, we would surely all suffocate under the weight. But standing here feeling the anticipation of death made me waiver in my commitment to not care. My eyes began to linger over the faces of my schoolmates, pausing briefly on those I considered my friends. I turned my head across the aisle and back several rows to find Katniss.

Seeing her did nothing to help me maintain my cool exterior. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her brow furrowed, and her hands twisted the fabric of her dress. She did wear something pretty after all. She glanced backwards several times, no doubt looking for her sister, Prim. At twelve years old, this was Prim's first Reaping. You never forget the nauseating terror of your first Reaping. It looked like Katniss was reliving her own all over again. I didn't realize I was staring until she whipped her head back toward the stage and caught my eye. I managed a weak smile of encouragement before Effie grabbed my attention by saying, "And now, for the tributes! As always, ladies first."

Shit. Was it time for that already? While Katniss busied herself worrying about Prim's single slip of paper among thousands which was unlikely to be chosen, my thoughts were on her own twenty and my forty-two. Effie swished the slips around the bowls, as if that made a difference. She pulled one out, right off the top. She unrolled it and read it over several times, practicing the pronunciation of the victim and lengthening the morbid suspense.. The crowd stood unmoving, propped up by the hope that the name read would be a faceless kid from the Seam. If you didn't personally know the tributes you could pretend like it hurt a little less when they died.

We held our collective breaths as Effie spoke the name with impeccable precision.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

The wind was knocked right out of me. It sounded like a whispered "No." The boys next to me turned in my direction, offering looks of sympathy. Maybe they thought Prim was the girl they saw me with all the time, or perhaps they really knew it was her sister. It didn't matter either way. Prim was never going to be in the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

"Prim! Prim!" Katniss screeched. Her words like shards of glass hitting my chest. "I volunteer!"

I swallowed my sorrow and summoned enough courage to look toward the scene unfolding before my very eyes. Katniss, in her pretty blue dress, pulled up to her full height, looked straight up at Effie and said clearly, "I volunteer as tribute." She began her march up to the gallows, each step pressing all emotion into the dusty ground beneath her feet. Her jaw was clenched tight, but I could see her blinking rapidly, trying to will her tears to stay inside for just a bit longer.

Prim didn't make it easy on her. She ran up the aisle and threw her arms around Katniss, yelling her name. Katniss made a meager attempt to pry Prim's arms away, and when that didn't work, she just kept moving forward, pulling the poor thing along with her. Katniss was beginning to blink even faster and her lips quivered ever so slightly. She needed help if she was going to maintain her dignity through the rest of the Reaping and stand a chance at not being labeled an easy kill on her first moment in these Games.

I moved as fast as I could to the center aisle and scooped Prim up. In her surprise she let go of her sister's dress and I hoisted her onto my shoulder. Katniss turned around, but I didn't dare look her in the eye. "Up you go, Catnip." My steady voice betrayed the turmoil inside. I began to take a flailing Prim back to her section, but one of her teachers rescued me. I unceremoniously handed Prim over and wedged myself back into my own section. I concentrated on breathing and staring at the back of the head in front of me.

Katniss had managed to make it onstage and introduce herself. Haymich, District 12's only living victor, staggered close to her side, sloshing around a flask of liquor. I just missed what he had said to the crowd, but Effie seemed flustered so it must have been his usual nonsense. Katniss had regained her composure and was looking blankly toward the horizon, appearing bored by the entire proceedings, except that her hands were squeezed into tight fists at her sides.

As Effie moved to the boys' Reaping bowl, it finally dawned on me that this nightmare could still become a living hell. My eyes fixed on her hand as she reached into the bowl, plunging her talons all the way to the bottom and snatching out one slip. Was it one in forty-two? Effie stepped over to the microphone, and as she inhaled a breath to speak, I chanced a look at Katniss. Her eyes fluttered closed, like she was making a wish before blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

"Gale Hawthorne!" Effie boomed. Wishes don't come true in District 12, Katniss.

My entire body suddenly felt like lead and I was underwater. I trudged my way up the stairs and onto the stage, each step on the wooden floor echoing in my ears like a drumbeat. Effie's voice sounded hollow and distant. She was asking for any volunteers. There was no one to volunteer for me, Effie. I'm no one's little sister. I think Effie was introducing us. I recognized my name again. She motioned for me and Katniss to shake hands. Not a chance, Effie. If we touched now, I wouldn't make it off this stage alive. Neither I nor Katniss moved an inch. Shaken by our refusal to play by the rules already, Effie turned to the crowd for applause. It was the dead silence that finally woke me from my trance and grounded my feet back in District 12. I shifted my gaze from the sky to the faces of my neighbors and friends. People started to move, kissing three fingers on their right hands and raising them high, a silent salute for their fallen brethren.

As Effie attempted to recover from yet another rebellious act in her otherwise flawless show, I caught two peacekeepers coming toward me. They meant to escort me into the Justice Building behind us where I would be allowed to say goodbye to my loved ones. Before they could take hold of my arms, I turned sharply away from Effie and Katniss and stormed into the building. I had to get off of that stage. Haymich fell in line behind me, with Katniss and her guards at the back. Effie would remain onstage to finish up her script. As the heavy doors finally closed us off from view of the cameras, I was led to a hallway on the left. Haymich loitered in the lobby while the guards guided Katniss to the hallway on the right.

It must have been realization that we would be separated that broke Katniss's tenuous hold on her brave facade. I heard a struggle behind me and she began to scream. "No! Gale! Let go of me! Gale!" She was panicking, and we couldn't afford that yet. I had about ten seconds to think about my reaction before my own panic would take over and I lost all control of the situation. I took a deep breath, turned on my heels, whipped past my two guards and bellowed across the cavernous hall, "Katniss!" My voice was deep and chastising, as if I was were breaking up a fight between my younger brothers. The tone caught her off guard, and she quit fighting the men holding her back. Our eyes finally met for the first time since Prim's name was chosen. The fear and sadness I saw would have brought me to my knees any other time, but right now, I needed to remain steadfast.

I crossed over to her, put a firm hand on her shoulder, and spoke to her like she was a child. "You have to stay calm, Katniss. You have to speak to your mother now. You have to speak to Prim. Do you understand?" She relaxed her body, stood up straight and nodded. Softening my voice, I said, "Good. I'll see you on the train, Katniss." The panic was leaving her face now and I knew she understood me. We had to be strong for our families when we said our goodbyes. We couldn't let them lose all hope. We would be their providers and protectors until the bitter end. And I would see her on the train, where the cameras were not allowed, where we could finally succumb to the harsh reality of the cards we had been dealt. Where we could be alone and together.

**Author Notes:**

**Thanks for reading. This is my first fanfic, though I have been a reader since the good old days of The X-Files when fans were just called shippers or non-shippers. None of that ****Everlark/**** Harmony/****Fourtris**** stuff!**


	2. Ch 2

The room they deposited and locked me in was an odd mix of furniture, leading me to wonder about the purpose of this space when it wasn't being used for this macabre festival. To the right of the door was a wooden table, stained a deep shade of reddish brown, with a surface as shiny as a mirror. There wasn't a speck of dust on it. Four matching chairs were pushed under it. Further around, in the far corner was a small couch, a stuffy looking chair, and between them, a table with a lamp. It would have looked very cozy in my living room. Much better than the ratty seats we owned that smelled like a stagnant puddle on a hot summer day. Next to the couch were a couple of empty shelves. They did look dusty and had several shelves missing or broken. The last thing, just to my left was a wiry, ornate table and two chairs. The table was barely large enough to hold a single cup and the chairs looked like they might collapse if I sat in them. It was the most useless thing I had ever seen.

After wandering about for a few minutes in nervous silence, I strode across the room and decided to sit on the couch. I perched on the edge of the cushion, leaned my arms onto my legs and began naming every speck of color I could see in the carpet. I sincerely hoped they weren't going to leave me in here alone with nothing buy my thoughts for much longer. This part of the Games was untelevised and therefore not known to me. The uncertainty had me on edge.

Suddenly, I heard noise outside the door. It was being unlocked. I stood up quickly, ready to take on whatever it was they were sending at me now. My buddy, Thom, lumbered into the room and the door was closed and locked behind him. I relaxed a bit at the sight of him and he crossed the room in two big strides. We met in a brotherly hug that was as comforting as it was brief. Thom clapped me on the shoulder, then stood back shaking his head.

"I'm so sorry, man. I don't know what to say."

I shook my head right back at him. "Don't worry about it. There isn't anything to say. We knew I had the highest chance of anyone to be chosen."

"I know, but to have to go with.." His voice trailed away. He didn't have the heart to say Katniss. "I mean, only one of you can win. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Thom!" I snapped. He looked hurt and this was not how I wanted to say goodbye to one of my best friends. "I'm sorry, I..."

"No," he cut me off, "it was my fault. Of course you don't know what to do."

I sighed and shook my head again. "It's pretty shitty."

A weak "yeah" was all Thom could muster. "I will make sure to check on your family and the Everdeens. You know, see if they need any help with anything."

"That would be great, man. Thanks." He gave me another quick embrace before heading for the door.

"Thom." He turned around to face me one last time. "If there was ever a year to place a bet on District 12, this would be the year."

Thom smiled at that and said, "I bet you're right, Hawthorne. I've never know you to back down from a fight. And I've never known you to win anything against Katniss Everdeen." The truth of his words brought a faint smile to my lips. "Good luck, Gale."

"Thanks, Thom." With that, he rapped on the door and was let out. I was exhausted already and he was only my first visitor. Now I understood why the Capital allowed this. They got to appear merciful, but it only served to wear down the tributes even more. To strip us bare of our courage like sheep sheared before a slaughter.

I breathed in slowly a few times to regain some stamina and sat back on the couch. No sooner had I hit the cushion than the door swung open again and my baby sister flew into the room to jump in my arms. Her tiny frame squeezed around my neck and I smiled at the normalcy of it all. If I closed my eyes, it felt like any other day when I came home from school or hunting. But this wasn't any other day, and one look at my brothers was proof of that. They walked over to me slowly, followed by my mother who had a weak smile plastered to her face. She was trying to stay strong for the kids.

I decided to address Rory and Vick first. Both looked like they were about to cry. "Hey, guys, none of that now, okay. You've got to keep it together and take care of our girls, alright." Vick nodded and sniffed, but Rory wasn't buying it. He was old enough to realize that the two people keeping us fed were about to leave and may never come back.

"What's gonna happen now, Gale? How are we going to make it?" Rory chocked out, trying so hard not to cry, but failing.

"Listen, you are going to be just fine. We were already stocked up for the Games since we can never really hunt during them anyway. We've got some money saved if there is an emergency, and Thom is going to stop by and check on you."

"But what about...after the games? What then?" He was barely getting his words out now, so I gathered all of them up in a big hug.

"No worries now, Rory. You know what happens after the Games."

He stepped away to question me. "What happens?"

I couldn't lie to him, so I said with as much conviction as I could, "The Victor comes home and then everyone will be taken care of for the rest of our lives."

My words were met with a thick silence until Mom stepped in and announced, "Alright, everyone. Out you go. Wait in the hallway with Thom, please." I grabbed them all up one last time, chanting a chorus of "I love yous" and kissing their heads. My eyes were burning and I desperately needed them to leave the room. Mom ushered them out, requesting to be left alone with me. The peacekeeper obliged her and she closed the door behind my siblings.

I met her halfway across the small room, collapsing onto her shoulder and letting her hold me close, another painful reminder that I was still so much a child. Never since my infancy had I needed my mother more and just like a baby, I wept. "Mom." It was all I could get out, a simple acknowledgment of who she was to me. She lifted my head and wiped away my tears. Shushing my cries and soothing my pain. She always was the strongest of us all.

"Gale, sit down." I moved back to the couch and she took the big chair, holding my large, rough hands in her own smaller ones. "I want you to have this." She reached into her pocket and handed me what looked like a small piece of old paper. I took it, turned it over, and found a faded image of my father looking back at me. "I want you to carry this with you into the arena."

I met my mother's eyes and she laid a warm hand on my cheek. Giving me a sad smile she continued, "You are so much like your father, Gale. You are strong, dependable, resilient. You have become a _good_ man these past eighteen years. Whatever you feel like you need to do out there, Gale, in the arena, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. You don't owe me anything. But I don't want you to forget who you are or where you came from."

A knock at the door signaled that our time was almost up. Mom dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of me, hugged me tight, and whispered in my ear, "You show them all what a real man is, Gale. You show them what we value here in District 12."

"I will, Ma. You will be proud of me."

"I told you, son. I already am." The peacekeepers made a move into the room to separate us, so Mom stood up and I followed. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Ma." One last kiss on my cheek and she was escorted from the room. I collapsed onto the couch and let the tears fall. After a few minutes, I remembered that I still had to make it to the train, so I dried my eyes and wiped my nose with my sleeve, summoning up all the rage and hate that I had for the Capital instead of the sorrow I had for myself. I squeezed my hands into fists until they hurt and I was left with tiny crescents along my palms where the nails had dug into the flesh.

Five minutes or so of solitude passed, and I assumed that my list of guests had been exhausted. When the door opened again, I was ready to be led out to the car that would take me to the station. While that wouldn't be an official media event, there were always a few cameras ready to catch some candid shots of the tributes before they boarded the train. The commentators loved to zoom in on the poor souls and deliberate on the tragic farewells that had just occurred.

Imagine my surprise when I saw Prim tentatively step into the room, shadowed by her mother. Both of them had red eyes and noses, a clear indication they had already seen Katniss. I lowered myself to a knee on the carpet and opened my arms to her. She walked into them quietly and gently, the way of Prim. Laying her head on my shoulder, she said softly, "It isn't fair." I looked up to Mrs. Everdeen for some indication of how I should handle this, but she was twisting her fingers together and staring at the floor.

Taking Prim by the arms, I lifted her off of my chest and looking her right in the eye, I told her with absolute certainty, "Prim, I will do everything in my power to send your sister home." My promise only served to make her cry harder. Mrs. Everdeen came forward and gathered her up, heading for the door. She gave me one last tortured look before leaving the room without saying a word.

The door was not closed behind them. Instead, a guard appeared saying, "That's all of them. Time to go." I exited with him, my thoughts dwelling on those who had visited me as we walked to the car. As far a funerals go, I suppose that one was not so bad. All that was left to do was die.


	3. Ch 3

I had forgotten about the cameras being present on the way to the train. I'm sure I looked positively ruthless with my eyes squinting into the setting sun. At least the car was only a short walk from the Justice Building and the windows were dark enough that no one could see much of the inside. A peacekeeper pushed me into the backseat where I found myself alone with the driver. He sat gazing forward and didn't even acknowledge the presence of his new passenger. I was just about to say a grumbled hello when the door to my right popped open and Haymich fell into the seat next to me. Slamming the door behind him, he spat out, "Let's get going."

I didn't see another car ahead or behind us, so I could only assume that Katniss was already on her way to the station. I would have asked Haymich, but he seemed occupied drinking from his flask and glaring out the window. I decided to do the same, without the aid of a beverage.

Five minutes later, I was lost deep in the memory of meeting a dark-haired, young huntress in the forbidden woods when Haymich decided to spark up a conversation by bellowing, "Stop shaking your damn knee, kid! It's making me car sick." I'm pretty sure my nervous bouncing was the least of the things causing his nausea. "What the hell are you so worked up about anyway? If you can't handle a ride in a car, you ain't gonna last five minutes in the Games, son."

"I'm not worried about the Games, Haymich." Well, I was, but that was not my immediate concern. To be honest, I was terrified of facing Katniss. I didn't know what to expect. I like to consider myself a fairly even-keeled person. Life in most of the districts of Panem is hell. We are no strangers to loss, hunger, and general awfulness. I managed to keep my emotions about the whole thing in check, not allowing the Capital to invade my very soul too often. Anger was my biggest weakness, and Katniss often found herself the sounding board to my rants. I had to get it out somewhere though, and the solitude of our woods seemed the safest place. She would listen and nod, instilling logic in me when I found myself in a vengeful mood. The cathartic release of rage was enough to get me through another several months of being the surrogate father of my broken family.

Katniss, on the other hand, rarely showed emotion of any kind. It took a lot of work to make her smile, and tears were extremely rare. Her typical disposition could best be described as silent brooding. I often wondered what she was like before I met her, before our dads were killed in that mining accident four years ago. Did she smile back then or laugh? What terrors drove a tiny Katniss to tears before she ever knew what real fear was? Now my Katniss was not a cold, heartless robot. She felt the weight of the world like anybody else. I could see it in her eyes, but she was very, very good at burying any signs of those feelings. She keeps them all underground with the corpses of dead miners.

I noticed over the past year, as Prim approached Reaping age, Katniss began to waiver in her ability to bottle up her feelings. The pressure was mounting and I prepared myself for the inevitable explosion. It hadn't come yet, but this Reaping may be its catalyst. How would I handle an emotional Katniss? Seeing her own fear and anger and loss spill out of her well maintained facade was going to shatter my heart into thousands of pieces. My palms were sweating at the very idea of it and I tried to dry them on my knees.

We arrived at the train station to little fanfare. The cameras had not followed us here. Haymich and I mounted the stairs and the door slid closed behind us. We must have been in the dining car. There was a table piled high with more food than I had ever seen assembled in one place. Haymich immediately took to hunting down a glass and some ice. Apparently his drink was better served cold. I only made it a few steps into the compartment before I was immobilized at the sight in front of me. Across the small car, with her back to me, was Katniss. Her hair had fallen down since the Reaping. It cascaded in dark waves past her shoulders, making her appear broader and stronger than she really was. I rarely saw her hair this way, usually only if I dropped by her house in the early morning or late evening. It was just such a time a couple years ago when I realized that my childhood friend was no longer the little girl I had stumbled upon in the woods. We had been out hunting earlier in the evening and I had gathered some herbs for Mrs. Everdeen's makeshift apothecary business. It wasn't until well after dinner that I realized I had forgotten to give them to Katniss. I walked over to her house to drop them off, hoping that I wasn't interrupting bedtime. Katniss answered the door wearing a once-white nightgown, her hair blowing slightly in the night breeze. I hadn't thought much of it then, but I could never get the image out of my head after that, and I began to have some more than friendly ideas about her.

Now she stood before me in the Reaping clothes that didn't suit her, biting on a fingernail, and taking in the view of the trees beyond the windows. She gave no indication that she heard us come in, and I wondered what occupied her thoughts. I stepped forward, crossing no more than half the distance between us. "Catnip," I said, the name getting caught in my throat and sounding like the croak of a small frog. She spun around to face me, dropping the hand from her mouth. Her eyes were wide like the deer we so often startled among the trees. Everyone in the room was holding their breath, including Haymich, who had decided that our exchange was worth his time to observe.

It was at that moment that Effie came sweeping into the car and the train began to move. "Oh good," she beamed. "You are all here. Now we can have proper introductions." Not a one of us took notice of her. Katniss tried to come towards me, but she didn't appear to have much control over her legs.

"Gale." And with my name as a choked sob, her face crumbled and the walls of her fortress came tumbling down. I caught her up in my arms as she tripped and buried my face in her hair while she wailed and clutched onto the front of my shirt.

"Introductions won't be necessary," Haymich grumbled to a dumbstruck Effie. "Don't you recognize the boy that pulled her little sister away when she volunteered? Clearly they are well acquainted." Was that a hint of sympathy I heard from the town drunk?

Katniss was shaking and sobbing in my arms, and I wanted nothing more than to get her away from everyone else in the world. I turned my head to Haymich and spat, "Where should she sleep?"

"Back that way," he replied, pointing to the next car over. I turned Katniss away from them and gently began to lead her in that direction.

"Your room is back this way," Effie shouted after us. I stuck with the status quo of ignoring her.

"Let it go, Effie," I heard Haymich say as he pushed past her and out of the dining car, cold drink in hand. Effie trailed him mumbling something about inappropriateness.

I eventually found the compartment with a hastily taped paper on it reading "Katniss Everdeen." I was shocked that they even bothered with her name. I lead her into a bedroom that was probably pretty mundane by Capital standards, but seemed like a palace to me. Just inside the door was a large bed with a carved and heavy wooden headboard. How did they even get such a thing on a train? Across the room was a matching dresser and what looked like a radio on top of it. An open doorway next to that revealed a separate room with a sink and I imagined the rest of a small bathroom.

I slid the door closed and locked it. Turning around, I saw Katniss standing at the edge of the bed, leaning onto it and feeling the softness of the mattress give way under the slight pressure. I slipped off my shoes and sat down next to her hand. She did the same and climbed up. Though her sobbing was less violent now, she wasn't done crying yet. I gathered her up and leaned us against the headboard. We sat there like that for the better part of the next hour, quietly letting our mutual despair fall from our eyes, dampening her hair and my shirt. Long stretches of silent companionship were not new to us. Holding her in my arms, however, most definitely was, and I never wanted to let go again.


	4. Ch 4

Katniss had grown so quiet, I thought she might have fallen asleep. Then without warning, she sat up, left the bed, and went into the bathroom. I could hear her blowing her nose and decided to stretch my legs and investigate the room. Over on the dresser, I found a box of tissues for my own nose and peeked at my reflection in the mirror above. It looked considerably less puffy than it felt. Curiosity got the better of me so I fiddled with the buttons and dials on the radio. Eventually I found music instead of coverage of the day's Reapings. By now, our faces would be plastered on every screen across Panem. I'm sure we were supposed to be watching the recap, too, but no one had bothered to make us and I wasn't about to volunteer. One of those tributes would most likely take my life in a few weeks' time. I wouldn't allow them to take away my last few hours alone with Katniss as well. I had no idea what would happen to us when this train reached its destination. Quite likely we would be forced apart. It is every man for himself in the Games, after all.

Katniss shuffled out of the bathroom with her head down, wiping her eyes, so I turned the volume down on the radio. She glanced at me sheepishly and muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Katniss," I sighed, "let's agree on one thing right now. No apologies for how poorly either of us handles this mess."

That earned me a weak smile and an okay.

Twisting a piece of toilet paper in her hands, she let out a shaky breath. "Gale, what are we going to do?"

"Well, are you getting tired or hungry."

"I mean about the Games, Gale. What are we going to do about the Games?"

I knew she meant the Games, but I wasn't ready to deal with that yet. I was clinging to the illusion that if we just stayed awake and avoided the topic, the train would keep going on forever, never delivering us to our final resting place. We could cheat death by sheer will and sleep deprivation.

"We are going to have plenty of time to plan for the Games. Let's just not worry about it tonight. This may be the last moment of peace we have. I don't want to waste it thinking about..." I couldn't bring myself to finish my thought, so Katniss did for me.

"Our deaths." An odd moment of silence passed before she said in a serious tone, "One of us has to win this, Gale. If not, it means more than just the deaths of _two_ people from District 12."

"I know, and we will talk about it. I'm just not ready right now." It was the truth. I knew already that I would not be coming home, but I hadn't yet figured out how to ensure that she would be. And there was bound to be plenty of resistance on her part if I told her of my intentions.

"So, what are we going to do, you know, with our evening?" she asked again with a hint of optimism.

I had not actually thought that through besides the not talking about the Games part. I puttered around the room, gathering ideas. Not every man is lucky enough to know when he will die. If he were, that man might make a list of all the important things he wanted to do first. Lucky for me, most of those things involved being with Katniss. "We could play a game that I like to do with Posy."

"I'm pretty sure that I am too big for the games you play with your sister."

"No, no. Not those kind. Unless you want a piggy-back ride?" I shot her my most charming smile with a hint of a raised eyebrow. She just crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head no. At least I tried. "Posy and I play a game called three wishes. I grant her any three things her heart desires, assuming they can be accomplished given the circumstances at hand." Leaning in and whispering as if it were a secret, I added, "I don't actually have any real powers."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. I bet you have a little magic in you." Did Katniss just smirk at me? She was really living it up in the face of imminent death. "Alright, I'll play your game." Katniss then proceeded to wander about the room in deep thought for several minutes before admitting that she had no idea what to wish for. "Maybe you should go first. I can't really think of anything reasonable."

"Okay," I thought for a moment, and in the quiet of the room, I heard the faint notes of music on the radio. I reached over to turn it up again, then extended my hand to Katniss. "Miss Everdeen, may I have this dance?"

She gave me a real smile. The kind that make her eyes twinkle just a bit and wrinkle at the corners. "Your wish is my command, Mr. Hawthorne," she said and placed her hand in mine. I tugged on her arm, throwing her into a spin, before pulling her body to mine and settling into a rhythm with the music. Her smile grew and she gave me a very uncharacteristic giggle. For just a split second, it was like I was falling. "I didn't know that you knew how to dance."

"I don't." I admitted. The music changed to something a little slower. Katniss darted her eyes around a bit, not sure where she should look. I realized that I was staring at her which must have made her feel uncomfortable. To avoid my gaze, she laid her head on my shoulder. I felt all at once a warmth spread throughout my body and an intense fear grip my heart. She was letting me hold her once more, and this time I was aware of how small she really is. Her entire body fits in my arms and tucks under my chin. She is smart and not afraid of a fight, but she isn't strong. If a boy or a bigger girl overtakes her in the Games, Katniss doesn't stand much of a chance.

She must have felt the tension in my body. She asked, "What are you thinking about?"

I couldn't tell her the truth, but the next thought in my mind was more pleasant. "I was just thinking about my mom and dad. When I was little, I would catch them dancing like this in front of the fire. It was always after my bedtime, but I would find an excuse to get out of bed. I would try to peek around the corner, just to see them. I used to think I was very sneaky and got away with it, but now I think they just pretended not to hear me. My dad would hum a tune in Mom's ear, and they would just sway back and forth like no one else in the world existed." Katniss stayed quiet, moving gently with me, so I continued my story. "Later on, I would hear Dad singing the same song in the middle of the night and find him soothing Rory or Vick back to sleep. He would lay the baby's tiny head against his chest and pace smoothly around the room. I don't know how he ever managed to get up and to the mines the next morning."

The song ended and people began talking. Katniss unwrapped her arms from me and reached over to turn the radio off. When she looked back at me, her eyes widened, surprised by what she saw.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You are smiling," she said.

"Of course I am. It was my wish, after all."

Shaking her head, she asked, "Thinking of your dad doesn't make you sad?"

"It did for a while, but I don't let it anymore."

"How do you that? How do you not be sad?"

I could still see the pain of her own loss written across her face. I would take that pain away from her if I could, but this was one of those things that she could only do for herself. "You just have to decide, Katniss. You have to decide that the memories of your father will make you happy." I moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hands and standing her in front of me. "They take so much from us Katniss. They make every part of our lives miserable and hopeless. Sometimes the only choice we have, the only real freedom we can experience, is in what we think and how we feel. So me choosing to be happy about the time I spent with my dad, instead of having the very thought of him fill me with anger and despair, well, I guess in my mind, that is my own little rebellion."

"But you _are_ always so angry. Always yelling about fairness and oppression."

"Yes, I am angry, too. You just happen to be the one person who gets to see that. It isn't like I can yell and kick tree stumps at home." She gave a soft look, thinking of Posy, I imagine. "It's your turn."

"Huh?"

"It's your turn to make a wish. Have you thought of anything?"

She dropped her hands from mine and I saw the tiniest bit of color swell onto her cheeks. She also could no longer look me in the eye. "I thought of something, but I don't know. You will think it is weird."

Was she thinking...no, that would be absurd...and hopefully not weird. I took a steadying breath to squelch my overactive imagination and let's be honest, my desire, and encouraged her, "I promise to not make fun of you. You can trust me."

She knew that was true. She could always trust me, with everything, even the deepest longings of her heart. Not that she ever has. I'm not even sure that Katniss has such thoughts. Her entire life seems to be consumed with surviving the next day, avoiding the next tragedy.

She finally spoke, very timidly, "I've always wanted you to braid my hair." Quickly she added, "I see you braid Posy's all the time, and you are just so good with twisting rope into snares." Her shoulders gave a little shrug.

I never would have guessed this would be her wish in a thousand years. Yet suddenly it was my wish, too. "I can do that." My voice had caught in my throat, and it was a struggle just to push out those four words. She disappeared into the bathroom and I heard her rummaging around in the cabinets. When she came back, she held what looked like every comb and brush that was on the train. I made room for her in front of me on the bed and she climbed up.

"Comfortable?" I asked, or rather, stalled.

"Yep," she quipped. If she was shy or embarrassed anymore, she was hiding it well. I on the other hand was falling apart. My hands had become both sweaty and shaky. I could barely hold onto the brush. In fact, with my first pass of it through her locks, the bristles snagged on a tangle, and it flipped out of my grasp smacking her shoulder.

"Ow."

"Sorry."

"Don't make me regret this, Hawthorne."

Putting on my best airs, I said, "If you are displeased, you may have another wish, my Lady." Joking always diffused a tense situation, right? I'm not sure I felt much better even though she humored me with a light chuckle.

Stroking her hair was shockingly intimate. My knuckles kept grazing the tops of her ears, the back of her neck, each touch sending small sparks down my spine. The sound of nothing but our breathing filled the room as I twisted the strands into intricate folds. Concentrating on the pattern of movements seemed to calm me. I became lost in a trance as I folded and wound the pieces into knots, hoping to hold her together forever.

"Your hair isn't much like Posy's. She has that wispy, thin baby hair. It is so fine, it just falls through my fingers like water."

"It will thicken." Katniss ended her sentence abruptly at the same time that we both realized how it would end. Posy would go through lots of changes as she grows up, without me.

It seemed like these waves of somberness were going to be a regular part of the rest of our short lives. Thinking about Posy and all of our other siblings left the mood bitter. Tears were stinging my eyes again and Katniss was blinking rapidly, trying to hold it all in. Lost in my own sadness, I couldn't find the strength to cheer her up again. My tiny baby sister would be the closest thing I would ever have to a daughter. A future that I was barely old enough to consider had been taken from me. Even if by some cruel twist of fate, I survive and Katniss does not, a family of my own without her feels wrong and empty. Maybe that would change after time, but thinking of it now was like looking into a dark and bottomless pit.

In the woods, Katniss would entertain me with her grandiose ideas of never falling in love, never getting married or having children. She didn't see the point in providing the Capital with more ways to punish her. She also didn't see the point in finding any real joy in life either, but I was hoping she would change her mind. The conversations would go amicably until I asked her what her plan for life actually was. I mean, it isn't like single women in the Seam have a lot of career opportunities.

_I don't know, Gale! I guess I will just find some man that needs a woman to take care of his house and feed him while he works himself to death in the mines. __W__e__'ll have__ a sham marriage. He can have a mistress on the side for his physical needs for all I care!_

That's usually when I would throw my hands in the air and stomp off to check the snare lines again. Katniss had already concluded that she would be a martyr, whether she lived or died. But over the past year, as my time to work in the mines approached, she hadn't made mention of her future plans. I was hoping that was because her entire philosophy on the matter was evolving. If not, I was prepared to volunteer as a fake husband under her terms. I could be a martyr, too.

And now with this Reaping, one of us would be.

"All done." I twisted the ends of the braid into a band and handed her a small hand mirror that she had deposited on the bed along with the brushes.

She walked over to the dresser, and turning her back to it, she raised the hand mirror to see the reflection of her hair. Her eyes roamed over my work, inspecting every twist as her fingers trailed down the braid from top to bottom. When she was satisfied, she lowered her arm and found me waiting patiently for the verdict. I'd never felt more naked and vulnerable in my life. The look in her eyes put me at ease. Her face was nothing but gratitude. "Beautiful." That was all she said, and I couldn't agree more.


	5. Ch 5

"So what is your next wish?" I choked out before she noticed that I was staring.

"No. It is your turn."

"No. This is your game. You are the wish maker. I am the wish granter."

"That isn't fair."

There is the Katniss I know and love. Always concerned about things being fair. How many times can I remember trying to send her home with all the blackberries because I know how much she loves them? She is vehemently opposed to inequality when she is the one receiving more than her share. "Well, I don't have another wish right now, so you can go again." She narrowed her eyes at me to voice her reluctance, but her heavy sigh let me know that I had won this round.

Pointing toward the bathroom with her thumb, she said, "There is a bathtub in there big enough to swim in. I think my next wish is to take a warm bath."

I'm fairly certain that I wasn't being invited to join her, so I told her that I would find my compartment, maybe change my clothes, and bring back some food. Time alone to think over this whole Games business wouldn't hurt either.

"I'll leave the door unlocked. Just come on in when you are finished." As I headed toward the door, she added, "And Gale..."

"Yes."

"Don't be gone too long."

The dining car was completely deserted, but the food was still sitting out. I also noticed that the sun had set and darkness obscured my view out the windows. I headed down the direction that I had seen Effie and Haymich go, eventually arriving at a door with my name on it. The furniture was different, but otherwise looked like the other bedroom. In the dresser, I found a dark gray T-shirt and a pair of soft pajama pants. It seemed like something appropriate to wear, more comfortable than my own clothes, but not too presumptuous. I wasn't sure where or if I would be doing any actual sleeping. I briefly wondered how they managed to stock the drawers with clothes that would fit me, but I suppose tall and scrawny describes the majority of the underfed kids who could have been reaped.

I wanted to give Katniss enough time to finish her bath, so I took a quick shower myself. I hated how enjoyable it was. This kind of pampering is how the Capital makes tributes feel grateful for being in the Games – like they are doing us a favor. I recalled the interviews where doe-eyed teenagers from the outer districts positively glowed while describing the wonderful food and accommodations. Perhaps there was something going on that I just didn't understand, but I found their gratitude repulsive. Surely they couldn't all be so stupid as to not see the Capital's agenda behind their...generosity.

As I stood under the spray of hot water drumming on my shoulders, my mind began to whirl at the impossible task ahead of me. There was just so much about being in the arena that is out of anyone's control. Katniss and I could definitely out-survive the other tributes if it comes down to living in a harsh environment, but children freezing to death or dying of dehydration doesn't usually make for good TV. No, the Capitalites want drama; they want bloodshed. How would I protect Katniss from the desperation of the other tributes? Even if I could, what will I do when it comes down to just the two of us? As usual, I felt nothing but helpless. Worse than that, I feared that I might have to rely on Haymich to get us through this. I suppose I would just have to wait until morning to get some information from him.

I left my compartment behind and headed back to the dining car. The outrageous spread of food included a good number of items that I couldn't identify. I stuck to fruits mostly, smiling as I picked up the most perfect pear I had ever seen. Holding it aloft in the soft glow of the safety lights, I marveled at how something as simple as this could bring both joy and sadness, nourishment and death. It was nothing more than Capital bait meant to lure us into their game. And yet even as I could stand here knowing exactly what it was, I would take it anyway. An old story of my father's skirted around my mind about the destruction of mankind brought on by the tasting of a forbidden fruit. It was a paradise lost all for the desire of power. And now the powerless would continue to take that which is poison solely to survive another day.

I returned to find Katniss emerging from the bathroom in a pair of blue, shiny pajamas. The shirt sleeves were short and she had it buttoned all the way to the top. The pants were just a bit too long for her stature making her legs look as if they had been swallowed up by a lake. It did not go without notice that her hair was still in my braid. She eyed the plate of food that I was holding and her expression was softer than usual and completely unreadable. I sat the tray upon the bed and handed her that perfect pear. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she gently reached for it as if it might disappear if she moved too fast.

"Thank you. These are my favorite."

"I know."

In the only familiar display of affection that Katniss and I knew, the sharing of food, she plucked a small orange from underneath a pile of grapes and offered it to me. Oranges are my favorite. Our fingers brushed together as I reached for it. Heat rose to my cheeks once again and I broke our gaze to inspect a spot on the floor between our bare feet. 'Coward' I said to myself.

Clearing my throat to garner some courage, I asked, "Did you think about that third wish while you soaked in the tub?"

"No. My mind was on other things." Her tone let me know that she, too, had been thinking about the Games. My curiosity about her ideas was bubbling to the surface, but it had been my request that we not talk about it tonight. I needed to find another distraction before we wasted our time discussing strategies. Luckily we were currently busy eating the plate full of fruit in companionable silence. It occurred to me that Katniss was the only person in the world that I could be quiet with. Even with my own mother, large gaps in conversation became awkward. Unusually large ones left me wondering if I had done something wrong to make her mad. Only with Katniss could we be in the same space for hours, not talking, only to fall back into the never ceasing conversation of our lives effortlessly, like we had only paused for a moment to take a breath.

"We can take a break from wishes and try a different game?" I offered. I'd come up with something, but it was incredibly bold. I was trying to redeem myself from that moment before when her smile and touch had sent me running away. Be brave, Gale. She's just a girl.

She reclined back onto her hand upon the bed where we had been sitting while eating, the plate between us now filled with fruit carcasses. "What did you have in mind?"

"Truth or dare." This question alone was already a dare. I held my breath and her gaze while she took in the implications of it. Katniss has never been one to offer up honest confessions of the sort that go with this game, and the dares, well, that's just unheard of. I was banking on the fact that Katniss still feels the need to prove herself to me. Challenges are only met with unwavering determination. If I imply even in the slightest that she isn't strong enough to handle such a game, well then I've already won.

She narrowed her eyes at me and for just a second she let her rage slip out. She was mad that I had suggested this. I had crossed an unspoken line that we had written in the sand. She knew that I knew she wouldn't back down, even though she really did not want to play. But the gloves were off now. It was just the two of us against the world and I was tired of hiding my feelings just so that she wouldn't have to face them. Back in the woods, I was afraid to push her on this, but here on this train, she had nowhere to run.

I had left her with only two choices. She could refuse, therefor admitting that she had something to hide, or she could play. Her ability to lie to me is non-existent, leaving only the option to finally face her true feelings, to drag them out into the open and for us to deal with them together, no matter how painful it might be for us. I honestly had no idea how Katniss felt about me. I was tired of not knowing.

It seemed like an eternity passing before she steeled herself to answer me. Just before she spoke, she drew in a slow breath and her face took on a murderous glare. "Sure, Gale. There are plenty of things about you that I've wanted to know."

Challenge accepted. I hoped to survive.


	6. Ch 6

I knew what would kill me in the arena. It was my impulsiveness. In a matter of a few minutes, my split decision to goad Katniss into a game of truth or dare had turned the mood from one of nervous, innocent flirting, into something with an edge of betrayal and danger. I guess it wouldn't be us if there wasn't the weight of impending doom above our heads. Encounters with Katniss would eventually turn volatile.

She prepared for our game by tidying up the playing field. The food plate was removed to the bathroom sink, crumbs were dusted off the spread, and wrinkles were aggressively pulled out of existence. She then plopped herself directly across from me, pulling her legs underneath her, and indicating with a pointed look that it was time to begin. I felt like a deer caught in the sight of her bow. This was a bad idea. I was going to have to choose my questions carefully if I had any hope of softening her demeanor.

"I suppose it is only fair to let you go first." Playing into her sense of justice might be my best choice at the moment.

"Alright, truth then. Are you planning on killing people in these games?"

Oh, great. Now my big mouth had really made this evening take a turn into unwanted territory. Here we were, talking about the one thing I had hoped to avoid. "I will defend myself, and you, with deadly force if I have to."

"I figured as much, but that isn't what I mean. Will you seek out other tributes and kill them in order to win?"

Part of me wanted to say yes. It was the logical solution if I hoped to send her home. But I heard my mother's words resound in my ears, _"You show them all what a real man is, Gale. You show them what we value here in District 12." _Real men don't hunt down and murder others, no matter how vile those others might be. Katniss was waiting patiently while I wrestled with my answer, giving me no indication as to which one she preferred. She had an incredible poker face. "No, I don't think I could do that. It just feels...wrong. It seems like that is the kind of thing that the Capital wants from us. It proves that we are all savages that ultimately need controlling. I don't want to give President Snow any more ammunition to use against us."

She nodded in agreement. I must have passed the test. Then her stoic bravado faltered slightly as she realized that it was my turn to ask for a truth or give her a dare. I noticed her telltale signs of nervousness. She was fiddling with her hands and wrinkling the space between her eyebrows. It had been my intention to declare my romantic feelings and ask her if she ever had any for me. I had imagined this exact conversation many times. It always ended with happily ever after. That was just a fairy tale now, not that it had ever been much more. What did I want for her when she returned to our families? I knew she would take care of them, but who would take care of her?

The last thing I wanted was to give her hope that we could be together forever. That was a lie. Maybe I could give her a different kind of hope. "Do you know Peeta Mellark?"

Wondering where I was going with this, she drew out her answer, "Yes. He's the baker's son."

"He likes you. Did you know that?"

"Not until today. You've asked two questions. I think your turn is over."

"I haven't gotten to the good one, yet. Just settin' the stage."

She was quickly loosing her patience with me, so I launched into the real interrogation, trying not to get sidetracked wondering what had happened today with Peeta. "Well, you've been very clear in the past regarding your feelings about marriage and family, but I was wondering if you would change your mind if you knew about Peeta's...crush." I wasn't sure if that was the best word to describe the seeming obsession that the boy had for Katniss, but it was the least threatening one I could find. Obsession is probably too strong a word. Hell, I practically had an obsession with Peeta, constantly watching him watching Katniss. I was absolutely paranoid that he would grow a pair one day and actually decide to talk to her. My overactive imagination pictured him swooping in on a noble steed and sweeping her off her feat. She would become enamored with this stranger who was devoted to her from afar and would completely disavow her pledge to remain celibate.

It was only my own jealousy that could ever conjure up such a romantic version of her. I rationalized that she would never react that way to Peeta, but logical conclusions did very little to decrease the amount of panic I experienced every time he made a move to approach her. Maybe he wouldn't be able to make her fall in love, but he could provide an easier life for her and her family. I didn't doubt for one second the lengths she would go to for Prim. Plus, there was always that self-doubt that she wasn't rejecting relationships at all, but me personally, just in a way that keeps my dignity intact and our friendship safe from disintegration.

"Have you ever noticed him?"

She sighed heavily and pursed her lips, thinking on it a moment. She was considering whether or not she would cooperate or continue to be obstinate. It was only when she looked me straight in the eye that I knew she had conceded. "Right after dad died, before I figured out how to survive, Peeta took pity on me and gave me some bread. I think he got in trouble for it from his mother. I've never forgotten that. It gave me hope. I feel like I owe him something in return." She gave me a knowing smile. Seam people are a proud and stubborn group. We don't like to take charity, especially from the townsfolk.

She continued her story, "He visited me today at the Justice Building. He told me he would look after Prim. I asked him why he would do that for me, and he told me it was just because he wanted to. He said he had always wanted to get to know me better, but he was too scared to ever talk to me." She shrugged her shoulders like she didn't really understand what any of that was about. "I guess he had a crush, like you said."

"But you never liked him?" I pressed.

"No. I never really thought about it. I don't even know him."

"What about now? Would you consider his feelings if you make it back home?" I feared I was showing too much of my intentions, but I wanted to plant the idea in her mind.

Shaking her head, she replied, "_If_ I make it home, I doubt I will be thinking about making new friends."

"Maybe not right away, but eventually. I wouldn't want you to be alone." Yep, I had said too much. Her mood shifted from annoyance to sadness as she absorbed the implication of my words. She would be alone, because I would be dead. Looking at me softly, her eyes transforming from gray to blue in the salty tears, she lifted one hand toward me, as if to touch my face, but stopped in mid-air, unable to breach the crumbling wall between us. I bailed her out by taking her hand in both of mine and giving it a quick squeeze. Lightening the mood with a smile and a cheerful voice, I said, "That's all for me. You can go again, if you want." I fully expected her to take the out, but to my surprise she asked another question.

Her focus never leaving my eyes, she spoke without an ounce of humor, "What happens with you and those girls behind the slag heap, Gale?"

Dropping her hand, I raked my own shaking one through my hair, ducking my head from her view. "Uh," I stuttered, "what, um, why..."

Without raising her voice, she cut me off, "Just tell me the truth, no matter what it is."

My mind was reeling at her insistence. Why would she want to know this? Was she simply curious about sex? It didn't seem like that, so I kept my answer intentionally vague. "Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear, for starters. I've only ever been back there with two girls, and nothing serious ever happened. That was a long time ago."

"Nothing serious?" she questioned.

"Nothing of consequence." Her look of disapproval let me know that I had not answered her sufficiently. I took a deep breath and swallowed my embarrassment.

"I didn't have sex with them, if that's what you mean. There was, I don't know, more than kissing but less than sex. Is that what you wanted to know?" The guilt I felt about what I had done was making me sound defensive. Truth be told, I regretted being with those girls. Even though it happened almost two years ago, it was always something that I wanted to protect Katniss from knowing, like I was covering up cheating on her, which of course was not true, but that is how it felt.

"Yeah, I guess that is what I wanted to know." She was twisting her fingers around themselves again and looking at the bedspread. I figured I had better come clean about the whole thing.

"Catnip," I said, encouraging her to face me again. "I wish I could take back what I did. It wasn't very honorable. Those girls expected to have a lasting relationship with me, and that wasn't what I was offering. I'm not proud of it."

"Why not?"

"Why should I be proud of that?"

I had misunderstood her inquiry. "Why not have a relationship with one of them?" she clarified.

Well, hell. Now look at which one of us was backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Thom was right. I could never win anything against her. A few incomprehensible syllables passed my lips as I considered how to get out of this. She had become the aggressor, though, and was showing no mercy. Sitting up taller than I thought was physically possible and leaning toward me she pressed on, "I thought that is what you wanted, to have a wife and a family."

I was beat. "It is what I wanted, just not with one of those girls."

"Which girl then?" Her eyes had darted from my own, down to my lips, ever so briefly. I saw a spark of something in her that I had never seen before, only longed for in the safe confines of my dreams. It would have been so easy to show her right then which girl I wanted, but I needed this to be her choice. I stopped thinking and threw all caution to the wind.

"Kiss me." I whispered as I leaned just a fraction closer to her.

"Is that a wish or a dare?" She answered, closing the distance even further.

"It's a wish, Catnip. I want you to kiss me, not because you are trying to prove your bravery, or win a game out of stubbornness. I want you to kiss me because maybe, just maybe, it is something that you've wanted, too." Gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, I continued my plea, "In a month's time, one or both of us will be dead. While a kiss before might have meant dealing with a future that you don't want and I won't have, it doesn't mean that anymore. We can share this now with no strings or hidden agendas, no consequences to be considered."

Her eyes had turned glassy and were focused on my mouth. I knew then that she was going to kiss me, but I had to tell her one last thing before it happened. "If I were to go home without you, I wouldn't want anything left undone between us, no uncertainty, nothing unspoken. And if you go home without me, I want you to know without a doubt that someone loved you for exactly who you are. Not who he imagined you were or hoped you would be, but you, right now, scars and all. I would want you to know that so if you ever consider spending your life with another man, you would make sure that he knows and loves Katniss Everdeen of District 12. Not some victor of the Games or whoever the Capital presents you to be. Just you, my Catnip."

It was then that I stopped talking. My mouth had been cut off by her own. She kissed me with more passion, intensity, and love than I had ever thought possible. My initial surprise gave way to the longing and desire of my heart, and as she rose up on her knees, I wrapped my arm around her back and pulled her close. With a small gasp, she pulled her lips away and I felt the tears that were hitting the hand I had laid on her cheek. I wiped them with my thumb and kissed her again, softly.

In all the ways that I had dreamed of our first kiss, it had never included crying, but how else could it be given where we were headed. What should have been a happy greeting shepherding us into the excitement of a new beginning was instead the start of a sorrowful farewell stained with broken hearts. Katniss had regained hold of her emotions and was again exploring the limits of my control by sliding her hands under my shirt and raking her fingers across my back. She climbed into my lap with a knee on either side of me. Breaking our embrace she sat back onto my legs. "I have my final wish." she breathed. "Stay with me tonight. Be with me." To make extra certain that I understood her, she began to unbutton her shirt.

I stilled her hands for a moment. I had to be sure. "I hope you don't think that all of this tonight was some ruse to get you into bed."

"I don't think that at all." The sincerity in her voice almost had me convinced.

"This is just pretty fast." I admitted.

She laughed and replied, "A dead run seems to be the only choice left."

A dead run. My mind flashed to an image of me pulling a blood soaked Katniss through a tangle of foreign trees, the yells and howls of a pack of Careers hot on our trail. "Gale, are you okay." Was that her voice? I couldn't think straight or see anything, my breath was coming in short, ragged spurts. "Gale!"

I blinked myself back to reality to find her still sitting in my lap, shirt partway undone, looking frantically concerned about my well-being. I tried to say that I was okay, but nothing but a thick choking sound emerged. She wrapped her arms around my neck protectively, and stroked my hair, rocking our bodies back and forth to a silent lullaby. Kissing my temple, she continued to soothe me. "I know you wanted so much more than this. I know you wanted it all. An entire lifetime to be together."

Composing myself and turning my head to plant kisses on her neck, I whispered, "I don't want to lose you, Catnip." I moved up to kiss her jaw, her ear. She loosened her grip on my neck and tugged my shirt over my head, depositing it onto the floor. She moved in to claim my mouth once more, but I stopped her. Maybe I couldn't give her a lifetime, but I could give her what little life I had left.

"Katniss Everdeen, I promise to protect you and provide for you, as long as I shall live." My words echoed those of our district's nuptial toasting.

Her breath stilled as their meaning soaked into her soul, and she responded in kind. "And I shall do the same." With those abbreviated vows, Katniss had granted me the deepest, unspoken wish of my heart. It was time for me to grant hers.


End file.
